


Green and Gold

by rynling



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Douplespeak, Gen, Illustrated, Ocarina of Time Universe, Prophecy and Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3894094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynling/pseuds/rynling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is haunted by dreams of dark storms, and he is troubled by visions of piercing light. When Zelda and Ganondorf meet, they must overcome the enmity stirred by oblique glimpses into a forgotten past as they attempt to resolve the tensions between their lands with words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Cover illustration by [Erin Lyn on Tumblr](http://rinylyn.tumblr.com/).

She dreamed of dark clouds rolling in from the west and woke, startled, into the faint clear light of dawn. As the white stone walls of her bedroom became tinged with rosy pink, Zelda remained in her bed, her hands clutched to her heart. She tried to slow her breathing, knowing that her attendants would soon enter, but she could not free herself from an overwhelming sense of calamity. In the past she had seen dreams that hinted of the future, a lost item to be found or an accident to be prevented, but she had never experienced this degree of dread. It enveloped her entire being.

When the sun reached the sills of her windows, the doors to her room were opened, and Zelda allowed herself to be shepherded through her morning, her hair carefully plaited and the ornaments of her dress meticulously attached. She had work to do before the afternoon court, appointments to be met and correspondence to be completed. Her days were tightly bound to the movement of the sun through the sky, and the passage of time left little room for waste.

Later, in the castle's audience chamber, with its marbled floor and vaulted windows, she stood at her seated father's right hand. Her purpose was largely ornamental, a fresh shoot at the roots of a venerable tree, but she was tasked with the duty of watching, as her young eyes could wander where older eyes could not. Her earlier sense of foreboding lingered at the corners of her mind, yet she was still not prepared for what she witnessed as the delegate from the Gerudo approached and presented himself to the king.

The man was of enormous stature, his massive body enclosed in fuligin armor fringed with gold. His skin was dark, his eyes were amber, and his hair was a deep russet. A single topaz stone was held on his brow by a roughly fashioned lattice of metal. He walked forward with great strides, and the distance to the throne was soon closed. When he knelt, it was like watching a mountain sink.

There was nothing in the man's words or demeanor to cause alarm, and yet Zelda studied him closely as he spoke the ritualized phrases of greeting, searching for any trace of insincerity. She found none, but she was still distressed when his eyes caught her own.

After the audience had been concluded and the formal court had adjourned in preparation for the evening banquet, Zelda retired from the throne room and found herself watching the sun set from the bay windows lining the broad corridor in front of the castle library. She had many questions about the man and the desert from which he hailed, but she was loath to ensconce herself within walls of dry paper when the sky before her was so brilliant.

She heard footsteps, and she turned to face them. The Gerudo chieftain was walking toward her, his face animated with interest. She waited for him silently, and he spared her no pleasantries when he arrived before her.

"Princess, I had hoped to request an audience with you." He voice was low but resonant, and it echoed down the hallway.

"You have already presented yourself to my father. I do not see what you will gain by presenting yourself to me."

"In my homeland, the women who speak the fewest words are accorded the strongest decisions. I come with an urgent plea, and I seek to submit it to your interest at your earliest convenience."

Zelda's face remained impassive, but she knew something of what this man was asking, and she was fully aware of how contentious the matter could become if handled poorly. Water, it was all about water, and the promise of safe passage, and the lurking fear of veiled threats. His people were powerful, but so too were her own.

"I must humbly advise you to go through the proper channels. I can do nothing for you, and you would do well to direct your attention to the king himself."

Ganondorf narrowed his eyes. "I beg your pardon, Princess, but the king – "

"And what would you say of the king, Gerudo?" a cold voice interjected.

A lean woman with a hard face appeared behind Zelda, having seemingly materialized from thin air.

"You have no right to stand before the princess," the woman continued. "You mistake your place."

"Impa, there has been no harm done," Zelda said quietly.

"Very well, Your Highness, but you must make your preparations for this evening."

Zelda signaled her assent with a nod. "I pray we may speak more in the days to come," she said.

As she and her guardian walked away, Ganondorf followed them with his eyes, frowning.

*

With the warm weather came violent showers, causing a lull in the activities of the court.

Ganondorf stood under the eaves of one of the castle's many porticos as he watched the rain fall through the trees planted along the moat. Although Zelda's footfalls were silent, Ganondorf still turned his head and bowed slightly to acknowledge her as she drew beside him. In his hand he held a single diamond-shaped leaf. It shone with fresh green in the humid air.

"Do our trees interest you?" Zelda asked, her voice as measured as the rainfall.

"Immensely, Princess," Ganondorf responded, raising the leaf against the gray sky and revealing the intricate patterns of its veins. "It is like a map of your Hyrule, crossed by countless waterways. It is strange to me, but beautiful."

"And how does it feel, to hold the land in your fingers?"

"My hands are ill-suited to such delicacy. It would be better served by yours."

Ganondorf turned to Zelda. She offered her palm, and Ganondorf gently passed the leaf to her, brushing his fingers against hers.

"A tree is a complicated organism," Zelda remarked.

"That is true," Ganondorf responded. "One wonders why so many branches are needed."

"It benefits the tree if its limbs spread in different directions."

"But all will eventually stretch toward the light of the sun."

"Not necessarily. Some are more protected from the wind in the shade." Zelda opened her hand, letting a gust of the storm sweep the leaf from her hand.

"But is the wind such a bad thing?" Ganondorf asked.

Zelda regarded him for a long moment. "I have noticed that the clouds bringing the spring are blown to us from the west," she finally said, allowing a faint trace of a smile.

The pair stood side by side, watching the rain fall over the garden.

 

▲      ▲      ▲

 

Ganondorf woke suddenly, his chin jerking away from his chest. He sat cross-legged on the ground, his back against a wooden pillar. In his dreams he had seen a blinding silver light that struck not only his eyes but his ribs as well, causing an almost physical pain. The light somehow filled him with shame, as if he were nothing more than a shadow to be banished.

Magic flowed in the blood of his people just as it did in the blood of the Hylians. He had experienced vivid visions before, and they had increased in frequency as the date for the treaty negotiation approached. Ganondorf thought it best to keep these ill portends to himself. To reveal weakness at this crucial moment would not be wise. Early in the morning before the delegate from Hyrule Castle was scheduled to arrive, the carpeted floor of the tent was strewn with wooden tablets, remnants of a heated meeting that had lasted long into the night. The light of the dawn sun crept under the east-facing fringes of canvas, stealing into the comfortable dimness like an uninvited guest. Ganondorf could not forestall the sun, and so he must rise with it.

Several hours later, Ganondorf stood with a phalanx of warriors facing the bridge that spanned the Gerudo Valley. Although the susurrus of the rushing river waters echoed along the sheer walls of the gorge, the air was arid, and the heat merciless. Ganondorf's lieutenant, Nabooru, stood at his left hand, fingering the hilt of her scimitar. He himself was motionless, his arms crossed as he waited for the sun to ascend to its apex in the sky. His expression did not change as a mounted figure emerged from the shallow canyon leading to the crossing.

The woman on the horse was lean and lithe. Although small in stature, she carried herself with skill and grace. She wore a cloak as pale as the desert sky, and her skin was as white as the moon over the sand. Her hair, elaborately pinned and crowned by a delicate tiara, was as rich and golden as the grain from the east. Neither she nor her mount faltered as they passed over the swaying plank bridge. As soon as she reached the other side, she climbed down from her horse and approached the waiting company on foot.

The princess Zelda addressed the Gerudo chieftain with ritual phrases, and he responded in kind. Although she had demonstrated great tact in arriving alone, Ganondorf was deeply uneasy. She was respecting Gerudo custom, certainly, but he remained tense, expecting a mounted guard or her Sheikah attendant to appear at any moment. As he peered down into her face, he felt phantom pains race across his back and deep into his chest. The glare rising in a halo from her shining hair stung his eyes.

Later that afternoon, Ganondorf stood outside the yurt in which the princess had taken shelter with Nabooru and her sister soldiers. Laughter floated from behind the curtains hanging over the doorway. When Ganondorf entered, he found Zelda sitting in a circle with the Gerudo women. Her formal skirts had been replaced with loose pantaloons, and she was holding a rough earthenware mug of spiced tea lightly in her porcelain fingers. She smiled at him but did not rise, so Ganondorf folded his legs and sat. His sisters nodded at him but continued their conversation with the princess, speaking of horses and archery. Ganondorf observed the back-and-forth volley of words silently, only speaking to ask that wine be brought.

Long after the sun had set, one of the elders pressed a jar of salve into Ganondorf's hands, indicating the redness on Zelda's nose and ears. For the first time since her arrival, he approached her. His sisters moved away to allow him to speak to her.

"You have been burned by our sun," he said, offering her the jar.

"I have been warmed by your sun," she said, declining it.

"Tomorrow will be painful if you do not treat yourself tonight."

"I assure you I have not been injured."

Suddenly the salve was lifted from Ganondorf's hands by Nabooru, who had appeared at his side.

"I will handle this, brother," she said, stepping between him and the foreign princess. He watched as her long fingers dabbed the pungent ointment onto Zelda's ears. The two women smiled at each other and resumed a conversation in which he had not yet been given a part.

*

The next few days were passed in surveying and the drawing of lines on charts. Zelda's skin tanned. It suited her.

Late one afternoon, after a day of riding, Zelda stood beside the outer wall of the Gerudo Fortress watching the sun begin its descent over the western sandsea. Light crunches in the gravel lining the stone wall betrayed Ganondorf's approach. She suspected he was allowing himself to be heard, and she appreciated the warning. The Gerudo had left her with precious little time to be alone.

Ganondorf came to her side and stood so that his shadow fell onto her, a gesture of courtesy.

"The desert is beautiful," she offered.

"Beautiful, yes, but many have lost their lives trying to cross it."

"What lies on the other side?"

"Sand, and even more sand. But hidden in the sand is the temple of my ancestors, where gold gleams on every surface and jewels sparkle like stars on the ceilings."

"Your people are generous in their use of precious stones, I have noticed. Truly you are wealthy beyond imagining. Is this not enough to stir envy?"

Ganondorf knelt and scooped up a handful of sand. He rose, offering it to Zelda. She cupped her own hands, and he slowly poured it into her waiting palms.

"See how it glitters in the sun," he said.

"Like so many tiny gems," she agreed.

"But they are easily scattered," Ganondorf continued, placing his hand under Zelda's and tilting it so that the sand spilled back onto the ground.

"Then you are lucky to have a limitless supply."

"You are correct. This waste of sand is our heritage, and when the light fails we cast out over it to claim what lies beneath."

"Your people have given me to understand that the western headwaters of Lake Hylia are hidden underneath this desert."

"That is indeed so, and the water is precious to us, but it is too deep for all but the most ancient wells. The technology to draw it has been lost to us."

"The lore of the Golden Age has been lost to us as well."

"But its artifacts remain."

Zelda turned to face Ganondorf. The rays of the setting sun were harsh on her face.

"Much has been hidden from our people, as it has from yours. Perhaps there is wisdom in this loss. We have taken what remains to us and left the temples to grow old with their secrets. Our numbers are small, and the storms over the open plains frighten us, but we are still blessed with a small measure of happiness. Can you not find your own peace in this land of glittering gold?"

"It is ever the nature of those who live in Hyrule to want what they see but cannot hold in their own hands. This is what drives your people onto our lands, and mine into yours. You can no more halt this flow of desire than you can cease the shifting of the sands."

"You speak truly, but I would like to believe that a strong wind may shape its course, even as deep roots bind it together."

Ganondorf didn't answer her, but he smiled, and the pair stood in silence, watching the sun set over the dunes.


End file.
